


loving you is all i do

by lindenshield



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, The Big Haircut, another take on Chris and Victor's relationship, since i can't seem to get over them, slices of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenshield/pseuds/lindenshield
Summary: Chris and five stages of loving Victor Nikiforov.i. Chris doesn’t think Victor has friends, not really, but if he did, Chris would be one.ii. Victor's lips taste like vanilla.iii. Chris does not understand why it stings. (He does not.)iv. Victor doesn’t have to need him to like him.v. Chris smiles back.





	1. xvii

i

Chris is seventeen years old when he starts toying with the idea of being in love with Victor.

* * *

 

It has been two years since Chris first talked to Victor – if that can be called talking, he was just a fan among others.

For some reason Chris treasures the memory, even now when they are something close to friends. He doesn’t think Victor has friends, not really, but if he did, Chris would be one. He has made a list of reasons why that is true.

 

1\. he remembers my name.

(Victor does not remember the names of his rivals.)

2\. he gave me a rose two years ago.

(I saw him leaving the rest behind so I was the only one he gave one to.)

 

Chris knows the list will grow. With time.

* * *

 

”Hi, Chris!” Victor shouts and Chris turns to look at him. He’s running towards Chris, breath making a cloud around his head – it’s unusually cold for Italy. The Grand prix final will start in two days and Chris has been given a free afternoon to rest before it (and by resting I mean _resting_ , Chris, you will take a walk and a nap and eat well, you will not run around town and make yourself even more tired, Josef had said eyeing him suspiciously). Chris has followed to orders, so far; he is walking on the edge of the town centre, avoiding crowds.

“Hi, Victor”, he says and flashes a grin.

“What are you doing?” Victor says and swipes his long hair behind his ear. His cheeks are rosy and his eyes bright, smile a little mischievous.

“Nothing, really. I was wondering how I might break Josef’s orders.” (Just a little. Not too much, he knows they are good orders.)

“Brilliant! And the orders were?”

“Take it easy.”

“So walking and sleeping and eating. Yakov told me to do the same.”

“You planning on doing that?”

“Well, I _will_ take it easy. Obviously I – we – should rest before the competition, Yakov’s right.”

Chris suddenly feels childish for not saying he too thinks the orders were good, so he tries to compensate by nodding.

“I also think we should have some fun”, Victor says. His hair is back at his face; Chris wonders what it would feel like to put it back against his ear. Victor isn’t his type – he likes dark hair and masculinity instead of Victor’s silvery beauty, but he still has eyes, and anyone who does will admit that Victor looks good.

Victor shoves the hair away impatiently. “So, want to join me?” he asks.

“What are you going to do?”

“Go shopping?”

Chris grins.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Victor walks around the town like he knows exactly where he is going, even though Chris is almost absolutely sure he has never been here before.

“Look, there’s a leather shop! I could use new gloves”, Victor says and drags Chris in with him. He tries so many pairs Chris loses count. Chris starts rolling his eyes at every new pair around the seventh one.

“These are so soft”, Victor says, stretching his hand in a dark grey glove. “Nice. But it’s almost like they’ve been used. So no. I need one’s that feel and look new, right?”

“Right.”

“This colour is nice, what do you think?”

“Suits you.”

“I’ll consider them. Hold, please.”

Chris already has one pair in his hands, but he takes the other one as well. He likes looking at Victor trying on the gloves, his long pale fingers diving in and out.

 

3\. He asks my opinion on his gloves.

(And he almost listens. He took ones I said I liked.)

 

“These are nice. Alright. I’ll take these and… How many do you have there?”

“Um, two pairs.”

“Alright. So these three”, Victor says to the lady behind the counter. He pays without blinking an eye; perks of being the youngest living legend ever in the skating world, Chris thinks.

“Ice cream next?” Victor asks as they exit the shop. “Or do you need something?”

“Not really.”

“Ice cream it is. My treat!”

They both get three balls of home-made gelato from a small shop near the hotel. Victor insists on paying, and Chris can’t help but feel flattered.

Victor licks his spoon after emptying his bowl and looks at Chris.

“This has been nice”, he says thoughtfully. “Thanks for playing hooky with me, Chris.”

“Anytime”, Chris smirks. “It’s always nice to have a friend when avoiding responsibilities”, he says carelessly, following Victor’s reaction. Victor turns thoughtful but then nods slowly.

“A friend”, he says. “Yes.”

 

4\. He called me a friend.

(I don’t think I need this list anymore.)

 

When Chris gets back to the hotel, he lies down on his bed to take the nap Josef told him to. He doesn’t really feel sleepy, so his thoughts wander off to Victor (Victor, whose private number is now saved on Christophe’s phone).

It’d be nice to date Victor, Chris thinks and sneers. Shopping together, getting free ice cream, having the permission to touch that hair that looks like it’s made of moonlight. Solving all the mysteries that seem to float in the air around Victor.

They would look great – Victor is the epitome of ethereal beauty, and Chris doesn’t have insecurities about his own looks. (only about his voice, that should just get deep already and not keep squeaking in a way that makes him just want to shut up all the time.)

He wonders if Victor’s body under all those expensive clothes is as angelic as his face. In some way, probably yes, but in others no – it has to be an athletes body, beautiful in a strong, unbreakable way.

His phone buzzes and breaks his daydream – only to continue it, since the message is from Victor.

_Can’t sleep. Want to come over? We could play card games or something?_

Well. He can’t sleep either.

_Sure, which number was your room?_

_27._

* * *

 

Victor opens the door immediately. “Will you always come when I call?” he jokes. Chris raises his eyebrows in a way that, Victor thinks, would be flirty if he was four years older.

“Of course”, Chris says and gives silent thanks that his voice stays low.

“Good. I think I’m gonna keep you.”

“I’m all yours.”

Victor laughs, surprised but real happiness pouring from the sound. Chris decides he wants to hear it more often.

 

Yes, it would be very nice to be in love with Victor Nikiforov.


	2. xix

ii

Chris is nineteen years old when he falls in love with Victor.

* * *

 

It's two am and Chris is just about to fall asleep when he hears a knock on his hotel room door. He sits up, confused, wondering who it might be at this time – Josef always talks about how important rest is, but he can't think of anyone else who’d come to his door in the middle of the night. His boyfriend of three months is back home in Switzerland and really isn’t the type to surprise him like this, let alone even has the money to fly to Japan.

The someone knocks again, faster this time. Desperately. Chris gets up, grabs his glasses and quickly puts his boxers on before going to the door.

He gets blinded by the bright hallway lights for a second. When his eyesight returns, he sees Victor. Victor, but not quite – Victor’s eyes are never this red, his lips never this shaky. His hair not this short.

“I cut my hair”, Victor whispers, his voice barely audible.

“I see”, Chris says, stupidly. His brain feels frozen and they end up standing there, staring at each other, until Victor’s sniff seems to wake Chris up.

“Come in”, he says and moves away from the door, closing it behind Victor and leaving them both into the darkness. Victor is standing on the middle of the floor – Chris can more sense than see him. He turns on the light.

 

Victor’s hair is cut unevenly about shoulder-length – some parts are close to his ears, some almost as long as they used to be.

 

“Are you alright?” Chris asks. He has thought he and Victor are friends since Italy - good friends, even, but realises now he has never seen Victor cry, never seen him this vulnerable.

“I...” Victor takes a shaky breath. “I. I'm... I cut my hair.”

“All by yourself?” Chris checks.

“Yeah. I didn't have scissors. I used a pocket knife.”

“That explains it.”

“I look awful.”

“No”, Chris rushes to say, thinking he’s going to have to lie but when the words come out they feel like truth. “You don’t look awful. You never do." He takes a deep breath. "It just needs a bit cleaning up.”

“A bit”, Victor says, finally dryly instead of shakily. Chris’ lips quirk up.

“A bit.”

“This is horrible. I have to leave the hotel looking like this.”

“I have scissors”, Chris offers. Victor looks at him and tilts his head.

“You have?”

Chris swallows. “Yeah.”

Victor runs his hand through the longest strand of his hair looking like he's deep in thoughts.

“I suppose this can’t get any worse”, he then says, voice too happy to be real. “Want to play barber?”

 

Only minutes later Chris finds himself sitting behind Victor on the floor, scissors in his other hand and other in Victor’s silky hair. It feels almost liquid in its softness – it’s like touching moonlight.

“It’s just hair, Chris”, Victor encourages him, and if Chris could see his face he would drop the scissors right away. He doesn’t, so he cuts the longest piece off. A wavy strand of silvery hair drops on the hotel room carpet.

 

Chris tries to be as careful as he can, and in the end Victor’s hair is somewhat even, longest parts hanging between his ears and shoulders. Victor runs his hand through it, jerking a little when the hair ends earlier than what he’s used to.

“Thank you”, he sighs.

“No problem.”

 

Victor gets up and shakes the hair from his clothes.

“I should go.”

“You can sleep here if you want to.”

“Next to you?”

“Do you see another bed somewhere?”

 

Victor rolls his eyes and goes turn off the light. They climb to the bed which is way too big for one person - even with the two of them there’s enough space for them to not touch each other.

Chris can hear Victor breathing in the darkness, deep rushed breaths, too close and way too far.

He tries to keep his eyes shut. He tries to forget Victor is there at all. He tries to fall asleep.

 

Then Victor turns towards him.

“Chris”, a whisper cuts the silence. Chris makes a noise, not sure if he’s trying to say he’s listening or sleeping.

“Chris.”

Chris’ eyes flash open. Victor’s face is only centimeters away from his.

“Yeah”, he whispers, his voice dry.

“It’s not just hair”, Victor says.

“I know.”

“It’s _my_ hair. It's what everyone thinks of when I'm mentioned.”

“Everyone else can fuck off”, Chris whispers, almost determinate.

Victor sighs and rolls over on his back.

“Do you still think I’m pretty?” he asks, clearly trying to sound like he’s joking but fear coming through his voice.

“Victor. Look at me.”

Victor turns his head slowly.

“If I saw a guy who looked like you, yes you with that hair, at a bar, I’d already be hitting on him.”

 

It’s a supposed-to-be-a-joke answer to a supposed-to-be-a-joke question.

 

Victor’s lips taste like vanilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://queen-thirrin.tumblr.com/)!


	3. xxi

iii

Chris is twenty-one when he admits it to himself.

* * *

 

Chris is angry at Victor. _Victor_ asked him to a bar the day after the banquet – they day Chris has dedicated to swelling in hangover every year since he turned eighteen (and if he’s completely honest, a year before that too).

Victor is dancing with a young woman who’s clearly planning on taking him home. Victor has no idea.

Seriously, Chris should be the older one.

Now it’s happening - the woman puts her hands on Victor’s chest and whispers something to his ear. Victor steps back, looks confused, shakes his head, smiles in an apologising way, leaves the dance floor. Chris smiles smugly.

“She asked if I wanted to go home with her”, Victor says.

“I know.”

“How?”

“Everyone looking at her knew, honey.”

“You look quite like her. The face you’re making.”

(Victor and his stupid spurts of wisdom.)

Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m the one taking you home tonight.”

“All the way to Switzerland? You should’ve told me, I would’ve taken my passport from the hotel!” Victor says and laughs. Chris rolls his eyes again.

“To the hotel, dumbass. And speaking of it, could we just go? I’m too sore to dance and there’s not much else to do.”

“Oh no, darling, not yet. I’m planning on getting you way much drunker.”

“Why?”

Victor smirks. “You make more sounds when you’re drunk.”

Chris would blush if he was anyone else.

They have been sleeping together for a little over a year – there were a few months between their first and second kiss but since then, Chris doesn’t think they’ve spent a day in a same country without kissing. Sex followed the kisses easily. They haven’t talked about it, not much – just made sure with a few words that they are friends, and that’s what’s important, but they are also two very human bodies experiencing certain needs, human bodies that just happen to be close to each other pretty often, so, hey, why not?

Chris likes their agreement. He’s grown to be attracted to Victor’s tranquil, delicate beauty, although he still likes picking up the dark and dangerous type when Victor’s not near. He enjoys one-night stands, has since he had his first one at eighteen years old, but he appreciates the familiarity of Victor’s body more and more. He likes knowing how to make Victor melt in his hands, how to make him let out the smallest noises of absolute pleasure, knowing how many fingers he needs and how long, he likes _Victor_ knowing exactly what to do with his tongue to make Chris almost literally see stars. He likes knowing what Victor likes.

“Here”, Victor says and puts a drink in front of Chris.

“What’s that?”

“A White Russian”, Victor says and blows a raspberry.

In the end, it’s Victor who’s more drunk.

“I didn’t break the world record”, he slurs, leaning his head on his hands.

“The record right now is yours, idiot.”

“But it’s from last year!”

“You’re impossible.”

“What were you?”

“What what?”

“Like. How many. Final. I don’t remember. I would remember if you on the podium.”

“Fourth”, Chris says and tries not to sound bitter. Victor is drunk – losing his English level of drunk. He means no harm.

“Next year”, Victor says reassuringly, “world record”, he points at himself, “silver”, he points at Chris.

“It’s a deal”, Chris smirks. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

January night air bites their faces as they walk to the hotel, Victor’s hand on Chris’ shoulders.

“Have I ever said you’re my best friend”, Victor mumbles. Chris snorts even though he feels warm.

“And I’m glad I have your cock while I wait for my one true love”, Victor continues and plants a wet kiss on Chris’ cheek. Chris does not understand why it stings. (He does _not._ )

“At your service”, Chris mutters.

* * *

 

Victor doesn’t make sounds when he’s this drunk. Even his breathing is quiet, thin, but his cheeks are burning and his sweaty skin glistens and his fingers are rough and gentle at the same time. He bites Chris’ shoulder and it’s going to leave a mark and his fingers are so _good_ and familiar and Chris tastes blood trying to stop himself from whimpering as he comes. He breathes, in and out, Victor’s hands softly traveling on his skin, chest and stomach and arms, just the way he likes as he comes back to the world. He sighs deeply, looks Victor in the eyes, sees the expecting smirk, and dives under the covers.

Victor doesn’t make sounds. He holds his breath impossibly long and Chris still tastes his own blood when he swallows.

* * *

 

He lies awake as Victor’s breath gets even and his skin goes back to pale. They are not touching anymore, Victor is on his side, face towards Chris, on his own side of the bed and Chris stares at the ceiling from his side.

Fuck, he thinks. Fuck.

He glances at Victor. There’s a little drool on Victor’s jaw and he breathes steadily through his mouth. Chris quickly looks away.

He thinks of the woman who danced with Victor. He thinks of how he fucking hated that woman. He thinks of Victor saying _while I wait for my true love_.

He’s your best friend, he thinks angrily. It is normal to be jealous of things like that, it’s just protectiveness. Healthy and normal.

_Fuck._

He’s in love with Victor Nikiforov.

He’s in love with Victor, his best friend, Victor who only accepts the best from himself but always encourages Chris, Victor who brags of his “Russian tolerance” but gets drunk on half the liquor Chris needs, Victor who gave him a flower and bought him ice cream, Victor who came to him after trying to cut off the part of his personality everyone else sees.

Victor who waits for his one true love and enjoys Chris’ body in the meanwhile.

It fucking _sucks_ to be in love with Victor.

Chris gets up like the bed is burning. He stands in the middle of the room and stares at the face of his best friend, the face that is beautiful in the eyes of everyone but, now, so much more in his eyes.

Why did that woman have to dance with him, why did Victor get so drunk he started talking about love, he never would have realised this if tonight hadn’t happened.

He thinks of the way Victor looked with uneven hair and red eyes, on his door in the middle of the night.

He knows there’s nothing he could have done differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnd i still can't write smut hooray to vagueness!


	4. xxiv - xxv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happier this time!  
> also, I'm still calling Chris' mystery guy / boyfriend Stefan.

iv

Chris is twenty-four to twenty-five when he gets over Victor Nikiforov.

* * *

 

Sometimes Chris wonders how fucking oblivious Victor can be. They are still sleeping together, not as often as they once were, but so often it could be called regularly. He is still in love with Victor. Victor still has no idea. The biggest change is that now Chris also has another person with whom he sleeps _regularly_.

It started as a just another one-night stand, and Chris isn’t sure how it ended up this way. And by this way he means that he is lying in bed with Victor, both naked and still sweaty from having sex in the sunlight that shines through the ninth floor windows, and Victor is asking him questions about _the mystery guy_ because Chris sees him so often even Victor has noticed.

“Why can’t I meet him?” Victor asks for the hundredth time, at least that’s what it feels like to Chris. He rolls his eyes.

“You just can’t. Period.”

“But I need to make sure he’s worthy of being your The One!”

“He’s not. I don’t even believe in The Ones.”

“I know”, Victor says and lays back down. Chris regrets turning him down – these days it’s rare for Victor to be that interested in anything. He’s tired, tired in a way that scares Chris. The kind of tired that doesn’t go away with sleeping, literally or figuratively.

“His name is Stefan”, he offers. Victor smiles a little.

“Okay.”

Silence.

“Do you like him?” Victor asks, tired but friendly instead of nosy.

“I like him.” _Too much for this to be fair to anyone, him or me or you. Not enough for this to be fair to anyone, him or me or you._

“But you’re not in love with him.”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

“The banquet’s tomorrow”, Chris says after a while.

“It is.”

“Do you think Yuuri will be there?”

“Yuuri?”

“The one from Japan. Sixth.”

“Oh. I remember him.”

“He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” _Things I do for love_ , he thinks bitterly and gets enough strength from the dramatism to smirk.

“Hmmh…”

* * *

 

Chris accepts Victor going to Japan the way he supposes people sentenced to death accept the announcement of their execution date.

He sleeps with Stefan. He goes on dates with Stefan. He gets told _I love you_ from Stefan. He doesn’t say it back. He pities Stefan for staying.

But still, something in Stefan’s patience, the way he doesn’t expect anything back but still demands respect, the way he keeps saying _I love you_ with a voice that is sincere and never needy, even after Chris has blurted out that he isn’t going to say it back, can’t say it back, makes him kind of want to say it back.

But even in Japan, Victor still _is_.

* * *

 

He feels jealous when they meet again and Victor shows little to no interest in him. But it isn’t the stinging kind of jealousy, it’s more sad than bitter – longing instead of lust.

He misses his best friend. He misses the Victor that jokes and laughs and drinks champagne and never gets embarrassed by stupid things if they are _fun_.

He’s not surprised to find Victor at the hotel pool – he’s surprised to find _that_ Victor.

* * *

 

It hurts a little less, seeing Victor with Yuuri after that. Chris even smiles when he promises to be Victor’s best man, and he means it, even if he drinks a bottle of red wine afterwards. Drinking and thinking of Victor is what Chris is good at. It’s familiar, the glasses after one another and the pain.

* * *

 

It’s been a month after the final and Chris is slowly coming to terms with being fifth. He spends most of his time with Stefan, occasionally texts Victor, and wonders what the fuck it was he felt watching Yuuri and Victor’s exhibition skate. He kind of wants to talk to Stefan about it, and now seems like a good time – they are laying on Chris’ bed, hands wandering on each other’s bodies, lips softly touching.

Then Chris’ phone buzzes. He grabs it from the night stand, muttering a quick apology – it could be Josef and something important.

_I don’t know what to do_ , the message says. Victor. Another follows.

_I just can’t stay happy can I_

“Who is it?” Stefan asks when Chris doesn’t raise his glance from the screen.

“It’s from Victor. He’s… Not well.”

“Okay.”

“I should call him.”

Stefan looks at him in the way that makes Chris feel bare in a way that is both arousing and unpleasant – it’s like Stefan is looking straight into his very soul.

“Do you want to.”

Stefan always speaks properly, with audible question marks. This must be very serious.

“I should”, Chris says. And he wants to, in some way, he wants to check that Victor is going to be alright. But he doesn’t want to go to him immediately. He wants to stay here, with Stefan, doing what they were doing, he wants to talk about how he felt watching the exhibition skate and he wants Victor to be alright _with Yuuri_. Chris wants him to be so happy he no longer needs to fill the emptiness inside him with people.

He knows, now, that Victor doesn’t have to _need_ him to _like_ him. He feels light.

“Wait a moment”, he says and kisses Stefan, quickly but properly. He goes out of the room, leaving Stefan with a confused expression, and texts Victor.

_Did you fight with Yuuri?_

_No._

_Is he there?_

_Well. Yes. In another room._

_Go talk to him._

_What if he doesn’t want to_

_Victor. That boy fucking loves you. He wants to hear._

There’s no answer. Chris sends another text, types rapidly, thoughts straight from his subconsciousness to the screen.

_He literally loves you so much seeing you two skate together made ME believe in love you fucker_

_That is the prettiest thing you have ever said to me_ , Victor replies.

_Go. Talk. To. Him._

_Ok._

Chris goes back to Stefan. He doesn’t say “I love you”. But for the first time, he thinks he might be able to say it someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! one more chapter to go :)


	5. xxvi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I kind of... forgot I hadn't posted this already???

v

Chris is twenty-six when he loves Victor.

* * *

 

Chris grins when the first tears fall from Victor’s eyes. He had bet with Stefan that Victor would be the first to start crying – Stefan had thought it would be Yuuri. But there they are, Yuuri in the middle of his vows but with dry eyes and the brightest smile, Victor almost sobbing openly.

“That’ll be ten euros”, Chris says smugly when he meets Stefan after the ceremony. Stefan rolls his eyes and digs the money out of his pocket.

“You were prepared to lose”, Chris notes.

“Everyone who bets against you about Victor should be”, Stefan says with a lopsided smile. “Well. Maybe not Yuuri. And I have made some plans to get that money back.”

Chris raises his eyebrows, but is only met with laughter and a kiss. The walk back inside hand in hand. When they sit down, Chris takes a piece of paper from his pocket and glances through it. He sighs and tinkles his glass.

“Good evening, everyone”, he says as he stands up. “We are gathered here to celebrate the union of Victor and Yuuri, who both look so disgustingly happy together they do not even notice I’m speaking. Guys?”

Laughter fills the room and Victor and Yuuri finally turn towards Chris, Yuuri’s face red but Victor’s grinning.

“Thank you. To those who don’t know, I’m Christophe Giacometti, Victor’s best man and, if I may, best friend. You don’t count, Yuuri. I’d like to thank Yuuri’s best man slash friend Phichit for helping me with all the boring stuff we had to do to make this party as cool as it is.”

Phichit waves from his table, accepting the applauding.

“I’ve known Victor since I was fifteen, so more than ten years. We met through skating, obviously. Victor was the soon-to-be-living-legend model looking guy, I was a fanboy with chubby cheeks. For some reason he saw something in me worth becoming friends. Well, who am I kidding, we all know he saw that under the squeaky voice I was cool and hot at the same time”, Chris adds. His throat is already feeling tight.

“When I was sixteen, I started making a list of reasons why it is clear that Victor is my friend. It wasn’t clear. One of the reasons was that he remembered my name. But then, two years after we met for the first time – it was in Italy, I think – we called each other friends for the first time. And the rest is history”, he says jokingly. “We met at competitions, of course, but also visited each other off-season. Victor liked Genève because he was able to show off his French. I liked St. Petersburg, even though my Russian is exactly as horrible as Victor claims it is.”

Victor blows a kiss towards Chris. He does the same.

“Right. So. Victor has been my best friend for years. I think there have been times when we both were the most important person in the world for each other. Other than our coaches, of course”, he says and playfully bows towards Yakov, whose lips twist uncharacteristically.

“Still, a few years before Victor met Yuuri, I was getting worried about him. He still kept winning every competition, honestly fuck you Victor leave something for the rest of us, but he didn’t seem as interested in it. Or in anything else, really. In me.” Chris takes a deep, shaky breath. “But then the Grand Prix final banquet of 2016 happened. I was the one who almost nakedly pole danced with Yuuri – one of my fondest memories, truly – but Victor was the one who fell in love. The next I heard of him after the banquet was that he’d gone to Japan. And the rest of _that_ truly is history.”

Stefan touches Chris’ hand.

“At first I wasn’t sure what it was that they had – if it was serious, if it would last. If there even was anything besides a relationship between a coach and a trainee. That became clear pretty quickly”, he adds dryly. “I was rather jealous. I was used to being the number one person for Victor. But both of those feelings started to fade as I followed them through the Grand Prix. I got more jealous of Yuuri’s talent as a skater than of what he had with Victor. I was still worried, though. But then came the exhibition. Stammi vicino, you all have seen that. That – watching that was – they were like the epitome of true love. Me and Victor used to joke about him finding his one true love someday. I didn’t think it would happen, I never believed in that kind of stuff. When I saw them skating together, I realised I was wrong.”

Chris takes a shaky breath.

“Yuuri. I’m happy we too are friends nowadays. I’m happy Victor chose to be as crazy as if to jump on a plane to get to Japan and to drop his career to coach you. I’m happy you two have each other. I didn’t think I’d ever say this to anyone, but you deserve Victor.”

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand under the table and smiles. His cheeks are wet.

“Victor”, Chris continues, but his voice breaks and the tears he’s held back through the whole speech stream down his cheeks. “I sound like when I first met you, God”, he tries to joke. “Victor Nikiforov. You are my best friend and I love you. I’m so”, he sniffs, fucking sniffs like a kid, “so happy to see you as happy as you are now.” Victor smiles, the smile that is usually reserved to closed rooms and only to the closest people. Chris smiles back, honestly, with no hidden desire – with love.

“Thank you everyone, congratulations to Victor and Yuuri once more”, he finishes with steady voice.

“That was beautiful”, Stefan whispers as Chris sits back down. “Also, thanks for winning me thirty euros.”

“What?”

“I took a bet with Victor. He said you’d start crying right away, I said it won’t happen until the end.”

Chris laughs. “You know me well.”

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very appreciated! :)


End file.
